Casey shook her head slowly. A sad story. A painful story.
Death stared at Casey with wide eyes, obviously wanting her to ask Eric more questions. But about what?
Eric’s face was pale, his lower lip sucked in, like he was trying not to cry.
Casey nodded. “You…cared about her.”
“What? Of course I did. I care about all—”
“But she was special.”
Eric closed his eyes. “I thought maybe…even with the kids…maybe partly because of the kids…we might…” He stopped. “She was such a strong person. I never would’ve thought she… But I guess all that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
“Of course it does.” She looked at Death. “Just because someone dies doesn’t mean she isn’t still important to you.”
Death tossed a popcorn kernel in the air and deftly caught it and ate it.
Eric turned his face toward Casey. “You sound like you’ve had some experience.”
Casey grimaced. “Exactly what Thomas said.”
Eric gave a small laugh. “Please, don’t compare me to him.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you nauseated.”
He smiled, and glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s getting late. Want to go somewhere for something to eat? Or get a drink?”
The two full meals Casey had eaten had more than filled her up. As for the drink…
It had been just before her last birthday. The party with Reuben’s colleagues. They’d closed a huge deal and were celebrating. Reuben’s boss was happy, standing rounds for the whole crew. Casey had stuck pretty much to the champagne. Reuben to his usual Corona, with lime. Not too much. Nothing excessive.
She’d caught her husband’s eye across the room, where he was held captive by one of his team, a loud-talking IT expert, who believed the world would be a better place run entirely by computers. Reuben had tolerated the ideas because the kid knew his stuff. And because Reuben was just that kind of guy.
Reuben had given her that smile. The one that said he was just biding his time before they’d stayed long enough and he could take her home to their bed. She’d worn the red dress, the one he especially liked. She’d raised her glass to her lips, holding his gaze, and had blushed at the thought of what would happen later.
“Thanks,” she said now, to Eric. “But I really don’t…drink. And I’m not hungry.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, then, can I take you to your hotel? Or wherever you’re staying?”
She looked at Death. “I don’t actually have a place to stay.”
Eric sat up, blocking Death from her view. “Really? You want to stay at my place? I’ve got an extra room, with a futon. But if you don’t like futons you can have my bed and I can sleep on the futon.”
Casey looked at Eric’s face, alive again with helpfulness. “Thanks, Eric, but I think… Is there a hotel or something close by? Something not too expensive?”
His face fell, but he covered it up quickly. “Sure. The Sleep Inn is right out by the highway. Nothing great, but they have beds.”
“That’s all I need. And a shower.”
He grinned. “I’m pretty sure they have bathrooms, too.” He swung himself up, off the bench. “I walked today, so we’ll have to go by my place for my car.”
Casey stood, thinking about Eric’s car. “You know, I can just walk to the hotel. It’s out by The Burger Palace, right?”
A shadow passed across his face, probably at the thought of Ellen’s last job. “It’s at least a mile. I can run and get my car, if you want. Bring it here.”
“No. No, that’s okay.” She looked Death in the face. “I really prefer walking. It’s more interesting.”
Eric looked confused at that, but held up his hands. “Whatever you want. I can walk with you.”
“But then you’d have to walk back. You go on home. Really. I’m used to it. I can take care of myself.”
He looked uncertain. “Yeah. I’ve been curious about that.”
She’d been wondering how soon he’d ask, how long he could contain his questions about where she’d come from, and why. “Practice tomorrow evening at seven?”
He gave a little smile, apparently seeing through her change of subjects. “And dinner at five, if you want to come by.”
“To help.”
“To help.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He looked down the dark street. “You’re sure I can’t—”
“I’m sure. Goodnight, Eric.”
“Well…goodnight.”
Casey hefted her bag onto her back and watched Eric walk away. He stopped once, about half a block away, to look back. She raised a hand, and he resumed his walk.
Casey took a deep breath and walked in the opposite direction, stopping in front of Death, who still sat on the bench. “I suppose you want to come along? There will probably be two beds.”
Death looked after Eric, who was just disappearing around a corner. “But it won’t be nearly as fascinating as if you’d gone home with him.”
Casey shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“No. Not impossible. Just picky. Have fun at your cheap hotel.”
And Casey found herself standing in front of an empty park bench, the breeze blowing an empty popcorn bag to the ground.
Chapter Seven
Death was right. The hotel certainly wasn’t interesting. Gross, maybe, but not interesting. Casey lay in her own sleeping bag on top of the covers, far removed from the sheets, which apparently hadn’t been washed after someone with lots of dark curly hair had slept there. The cable TV wasn’t working, and the air conditioner made such an awful racket Casey wouldn’t have heard the Second Coming if it happened right outside in the parking lot. The temperature in the room really didn’t need lowering, either, so Casey turned off the malfunctioning equipment.
By the time dawn broke and light began seeping through the too-small curtains into the room, Casey had gotten only a few hours of sleep and had had enough of counting the little dots on the lowered ceiling. She got up, moved enough furniture around she could just manage her morning routine of calisthenics and hapkido techniques, took a quick shower in barely heated water, and headed out, hoping nothing too disgusting had crawled into her backpack while she’d slept.
The sky was brighter than the day before, and Casey doubted rain was in the forecast. It would be nice to be dry for at least a little while. She stopped at the desk to ask the sleepy, barely-out-of-high-school attendant where she might get some breakfast, and he directed her across the street to what she’d assumed was a closed diner, not having seen any cars there earlier. But inside the restaurant she was pleasantly surprised at the light and the cleanliness—both a nice change from The Sleep Inn.
After a good mushroom omelet Casey brushed her teeth in the bathroom and asked the cashier if there was a library anywhere close. He assured her there was, right downtown, and Casey headed back the way she’d come the night before.
Her path took her past the bus stop where she’d seen the fliers. She stopped to look again at the notice of the benefit for Ellen’s family. A garage sale. A fitting event for a struggling community. Probably not a huge fundraiser, but something these folks could afford.
Walking on, Casey took one turn and soon stood at the doors of the library. Closed. The schedule on the window said the library would open at eight-thirty. Casey checked her watch. About eight. She slid the bag from her back and took a seat on the bench outside the front door. It wouldn’t hurt her to sit for a while. Her night’s sleep certainly hadn’t been the greatest.
But by the time she was roused by the jingle of the doors being unlocked she was ready to move again. The librarian, a young man almost as wide around as Casey’s right leg, opened the door with a smile. Casey was careful not to knock into him as she passed. The slightest touch would likely break a bone.